“Where you’re going with those?” I asked.
He glanced at my arm, his lip curling. “If you must ask, it’s none of your business.”
I smirked and dropped my arm. “Holloway,” I said, thrusting my hand out. “Oria Holloway.”
The basket fell to the ground and incoherent stuttering ensued.
“Now, now,” I glanced at his name tag. “Mason. No worries. No one expected I’d show up today. Can’t blame you for being clumsy.” His watery hazel eyes were amplified by bifocal lenses. “Or rude.”
Mason hunched down to retrieve the basket. “Ssss..sorry.”
The basket tipped over and lost half its contents. I smiled as my old friend chaos showed up. Now people were staring. Twittering-girl was irritated that Wells’ attention was diverted. Eyebrows all around us rose as a methodical hush filled the space. I may not be able to read minds, but the gift of diversion was mine. Thank you, Chaos. My daddy knew how to give gifts after all.
I hooked my arm under Mason’s, causing him to leave behind a mess of feathers and beads at our feet. My disguise was excellent for a crumbling heir. I looked eccentric with a twist of innocence. I only hoped I could carry the facade through flawlessly. I’d have to keep chaos close at hand.
“You must be Emma’s great niece.” An attractive blond man stepped forward. “Oria?”
What the heck? I shook his hand. “Yeah.” My gaze snapped to his nametag. “Teddy?”
He smiled. “The one and only.” He crammed his hands into the back pockets of his weathered jeans. “I’d hoped to have the place spoofed up before inspection.”
My nose crinkled. “You know Emma. She’s impatient.”
“Good ol’ Emma,” Teddy chuckled. “She likes to keep me on my toes.”
“Yeah,” I replied cautiously. Hearing my name on a mortal’s lips had me addlebrained. What were the odds this could happen? My name was as uncommon as giants in Asgard. “An attribute that didn’t help keeping the family fortune intact.” I looked up at Teddy. “And an attribute I definitely lack. I’m more of a do it yourself girl, so no one can muck things up.”
Teddy laughed at that. “If you’re looking for a part, you’ll have to audition. Although, you have an advantage. We’re a small scale group. Nothing like what you’re accustomed to. How’s the Big Apple treating you?”
“Cold.” I sniffed and looked around. “And I prefer smaller scale theater. More creativity and less bull.” I released Mason who immediately scrambled to clean up. “That’s why I’m here. Show me around? Introduce me? This is a purely a social call. Relax.”
“How is it that you’re nothing like your aunt?” Teddy asked.
As if I would know the answer to that question. Somewhere on Midgard was the real Oria Holloway and she would know. Oria, the Imperium Reaper hadn’t a clue. Luckily, he didn’t seem to really expect an answer.
Wells was ten introductions later. He was the production manager and a playwright major at a community college with an impressive portfolio. The shift in his stance while Teddy listed his experience had a humble bend to it. I couldn’t put my finger on the importance of this reap to Valhalla. Why would Odin want him? And why didn’t Freya care if he was reaped for them?
“So, you’re an actress?” Wells asked.
I shrugged. “You’d rather be behind the scenes than up front?” I motioned to the crumpling stage. “It’s great to be in the center. Experience the glory. But, without a solid story, what is an actress?”
“My mother was an actress,” he said.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“On stage or screen?”
“Stage, of course. She married young, while still in school.” He shrugged. “Then, I came along and she was just my mom. I’ve been told that she was really good, though. She’d have probably ended up with an agent and on screen if not for me.”
“She must be proud to see you following in her footsteps.”
Maxwell’s countenance shadowed. “She’s been gone a while.”
Death. Here we go; my forte. It was the edge I needed. “I’m so sorry.”
A group of guys passed, shuffling a painted backdrop between them. Maxwell rubbed the back of his neck and shifted as he spoke. He seemed physically pained.
“What’s it like in New York?” he asked.
I lifted one shoulder. “Like any other place. It’s what you make it.”
“Not like Cali,” he grinned. “This state makes the man.”
“Maybe.” I didn’t know if I should laugh or frown. I tried not to leave Folkvangr much outside of work. And then, I wasn’t sightseeing, but soul seeking. The natural world of Midgard was the most boring place for an immortal. I’d rather visit Hel. “Ever been to New York?”
He shook his head and a hint of pink came to his cheeks. Humble and shy. This was rich.
“No place should have that kind of power,” I said. “It doesn’t matter where you live. I’ve seen people from the smallest places make something of themselves. You chose your own path. Make your own decisions. Well, at least, I steer my own life. I do what I want, when I want.”
“I heard you tell Mason that you’re the rebel of the family and yet, you’re here when you could be in New York. How is that rebelling? Aren’t you doing what your aunt will have of you? How is that being your own person?”
Suddenly, my mind was back in Folkvangr, listening to Freya work me over. As an Imperium Reaper, I was allowed some creative leads, but the gods only gave short leashes. My life was a series of demands and follow through. An existence based performance. I didn’t eat if I didn’t reap.
“Who are you to ask such a personal question?” I bit out. “I have my reasons for being here and they’re my own; not my aunt's.”
“I was being hypothetical.” Wells’ brow furrowed. “This is theater. Iron sharpens iron.”
“I’m not one your little theater brats.” I pushed past him, hitting him with my shoulder. I was done. I didn’t have to answer to a silly mortal.
Not my best exit, but I wasn’t myself. There was nothing interesting about this boy except he was cute. It didn’t make sense.
I dematerialized as soon as I was out into the alley, not bothering to scan the area beforehand. I’d glanced back before leaving the ruins of the theatre and seen a pale blue halo outlining Wells’ form. The mark of protection of a Divine Reaper for Odin. Wells wanted to lament on things he didn’t understand. He was a slave to the state as he was a slave to Odin and he didn’t even know it. How dare he lecture me on being my own person; I was here, after all, against any sane judgement.
I flashed back to Folkvangr, slammed the ivory door to my room shut, and rested my head against the coolness of it. The only good that came of today was that I had purpose. I now had a reason to track Wells as suspicious. With an aura that thick around a soul, something was up. Part of me wanted to crack this reap and relish in the win. Another part whispered that I was a fool. Although he seemed harmless, it was overdone. The divine protection wouldn’t fall easy. It would have to be something big to make Wells fall to the side of Folkvangr.
My wings flared open as I sensed an immortal near. My hands balled into fist as I pushed away from the door.
“You’re late,” Magna said. “Again.”
I spun around to see her reclining on my chaise, idly petting my hawk.
“I could have you killed,” I growled. “Or better still; do it myself.”
Theta, my hawk, balked and rose from the chair.
“What gives you the nerve to be in my private chamber uninvited?” I eyed Theta as she flew out of the window. I needed a more loyal watch animal. One that would peck intruder’s eyes out.
“Orum knows where you’ve been. There was an Imperium in the vicinity when you materialized near Wells. Heimdall is ever watchful. It wasn’t smart of you to go where prohibited.”
“Dammit,” I said under my breath. My shoulders slumped. A veiled Imperium assigned to a case a
nd Heimdall was vigilant. This was serious. Wells was serious. There was no way I was backing down now. Odin was up to something sinister. “When did you last see Orum?”
“You mean, how much time do you have before he discovers you’re home?”
I sneered.
Magna came slowly to her feet. “Some of us have to earn a living rather than chase about a mortal not assigned to us. We must live off of the souls reaped.”
“Us? You live off the souls that I reap.”
“My point exactly. Your foolish endeavor is starving a quarter of Freya’s handmaid's.” Magna’s arms spread. “Look at me. This is because of you. You skipped out on a reap and gave it to Odell? I can’t believe you’d be so selfish.” She pointed to my chest. “That red mark is like a beacon and it never lies.”
“So, you ratted me out to my brother?” My ears grew hot and my scalp tingled. “Are you stupid? You bring news of his darling sister breaking Freya’s law and you want him to like you?”
“A chance I am willing to take.”
I shook my head. “All bets are off. I don’t need you to give me any details concerning Maxwell. Rebellion is what I do best.”
I snapped my fingers and immediately transported to west Folkvangr.
Orum had to have heard the sizzle when I materialized, but he still followed through a perfect golf swing arc before turning to me. “Sister,” he greeted with a smirk.
“You’re such a human.” I pulled a face as I motioned to the golf clubs. “Get them out of my sight before I break them.”
Orum tsked. “You’re in a mood.”
“I just bumped into Magna.”
“And that's my fault?” Orum snapped away the clubs and virtual golf course. The hillside of Folkvangr resurfaced. “I’d drop the attitude. I’m your best friend about now. Perhaps go back and reappear with a kinder tone.”
“Listen.” I pointed at him. “It’s none of my business what you do with your feelings for Magna, but I won’t be the victim. She overstepped and you fed into it.”
“And promising her my favor in return for highly confidential intel is all right?”
I folded my arms. “I knew you’d figure it out. It’s not like I can hide things from you.”
As twins, we shared things. Thoughts. If one of us were in serious trouble, we’d know. Lies couldn’t dwell between us. Feelings such as love and anger were easily discerned. Orum was a fool for falling for Magna. She could destroy him if she knew the depth of his emotions. But, who was I to give lessons in love?
His voice softened. “Magna isn’t your problem. She won’t turn you in. You are your own trouble.”
I turned away, putting my hands over my ears.
“What you’re doing is huge,” he went on. “Impersonating a human on a case you’re not assigned to? Really? You want to blame Magna for telling me about that so I could save you?”
“I hate you,” I murmured.
Orum gently removed my hands. “No, you don’t.”
I leaned back against him, tucking my wings inward. “Sometimes, I think I do. Like now. Prime example.”
He chuckled. “Liar.”
“Am I lying now?” I asked, but a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
“Yes.”
I exhaled heavily. “Fine.” I pulled away and looked over my shoulder. “Now that you know everything via Miss Loud Mouth Magna, care to help your sister out?”
Orum pushed me further away. “So both of us can be on Freya’s chopping block? No. You’re truly crazy. Good Valhalla, Oria! Are you trying to die?”
“I sort of really did impersonate a human.”
Orum’s mouth hung open for a second before going into full throttle. “You’re crazy. I thought Magna was exaggerating the story. Even I didn’t think you were that stupid.” He threw his hands up. “I should have listened when mother said to give you the gift of persuasion. Not a millennium goes by without you asking the use of the gift.”
“Don’t pretend chaos and distraction haven’t been of great use to you. I lend you my gifts freely. If daddy didn’t have issues with me being female, I’d have more than the gift of gab, but we know even gods can be sexist. Our gifts should be shared—we’re twins, more than mere siblings. How dare you deny me when I need you?”
“You don’t need me. If you were on a case, my aiding you with persuasion would be a need. This is a want. A big, fat, selfish want. You’re chasing a mortal for reasons I prefer not to give words to.”
“Magna,” I interrupted. “You have no business with her and you know it. You could end up in trouble, too. If Freya finds out, she will kill her without remorse.”
“Geirolf,” Orum bit out. “There is no greater love story muck up than yours. And now let’s add the mortal, Maxwell, into your jaded history. Where are you going with this? I can sense your interest in him and quite frankly, I’m disturbed. What can you possibly want with a mortal when you can’t even have the most divine reaper of Norse legend? Do you think it will be easier?” He laughed curtly. “And you’re concerned about me? Don’t worry about Magna. We know the risk we take with each moment we steal. Compared to what you are doing, Freya would joyfully allow me a respite and have your head on a platter instead.”
“Get out of my head.” My fingers brushed the area over my heart. “I hate sharing feelings with you.”
“Ditto. And stop massaging your heart. You won’t die of heartbreak. I’d have died long ago. We aren’t that lucky. We have all eternity to be stuck in a constant state of angst.”
My hand dropped. “Listen. This isn’t like my other ideas—this is really something that can make a difference. I can score a reap for Folkvangr and restore Magna’s well-being. You know my reaps feed the channel that nourishes her. I need this reap. It’s big. Huge.”
“Stealing a reap you’re not assigned to isn’t smart, Oria. It’s suicide. Maxwell is marked by Odin.”
“What about free will?” I asked.
Orum snickered. “Are we Norse theologians now?” He shook his head. “That’s a tired argument and you know it will get you nowhere with Freya. When she gets wind of what you’ve done, she’ll want to banish you to the veil. They assign reaps for a reason.”
“They treat us as mortal children,” I snapped. “When we are immortal gods stripped of divine nature, because they can’t handle competition from their own flesh and bone. Who are they to tell us how we feed?”
“It is our way of life. Our law. This isn’t something to rebel against. You can’t win.”
“Maybe, I don’t want to win, but to live. I’m done with the life of a reaper.” A low growl rumbled in my throat. “It’s no life. It’s the sentence of a criminal who is innocent.”
“So, you want to hang out with a mortal?” Orum’s face twisted. “A mortal with the mark of Odin, no less. If it’s adventure you lack, why not choose an American? Or an Australian? Go after the business of Hel, but leave Valhalla alone. Freya would turn the other way if you’d seek a diversion of a different sort. You can’t just be done with life as a reaper. You’re made this way. You can’t go against your own nature. Just try a harmless diversion before going head long into full-blown anarchy.” He looked intently at my waning expression and sighed. “But, of course. You’re going for the law buster.” He shook his finger. “I blame this on mother, the wack-job she is. Her blood courses through your veins the strongest. You’d be better off petitioning for a portion of your godhood to be returned and go live with mom. You could frolic with unicorns and mess with human lives at your leisure. Would that make you happy?”
My jaw tensed. “We don’t speak of her.”
“I just did,” Orum replied. He pressed his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. “You’re giving me a nasty headache. Where are we going with this?” He looked down at me. “Oh, yes. You’d like me help you get killed.”
“Don’t you ever wonder why Odin and Freya get all worked up over certain souls? Remember three thousand years
back when we went after that halfling? We didn’t know Jasper was half-immortal until we’d reaped him for Folkvangr. That was sick.”
“Poor guy,” Orum breathed. “Still can’t look him in the eye when I pass the veil.”
“That’s all of us, Orum. We did that. We put Jasper in an eternal state he can never escape. Half-immortals can’t break the chains of divine law. That’s on us. The immortal in us binds his contract better than any titanium or gold. Jasper is innocent and they used us to do the dirty work. We were swayed to lead that reap and you know it. Odin wanted us to defy that reap. We were set up. He used us to teach everyone a lesson and we walked right into it.”
Orum winced and turned away. “We didn’t know he was marked for Odin because he was a halfling. We were just lucky he wasn’t the offspring of Odin himself.”
“No. It was worse. He’s our brother.”
Jasper. Born of Bragi and a mortal woman, he’d been marked by Odin as a favor to Bragi. The protection of Valhalla had been thick and it had been hard to break through. Back then, Orum and I considered it a challenge to upturn a reap settled for Valhalla. The gods were peculiar concerning their laws and more often than not, they didn’t share those laws until the need arose. If a half-mortal, half-god was marked for Odin or Freya, it was a done deal. If the reap was defied, the soul was sentenced to the veil. And the veil was a place no one wanted to dwell. Both immortals and mortals lived within the veil, along with souls hanging in the balance. Ice giants, fire giants, dwarfs; all were allowed into the veil to torture whomever they desired. The veil was a home of constant fear, hunger, and exhaustion. Odin used Orum and I as an example and to create a new law. No one should touch a halfling marked for a god.
Jasper never had a chance. When Odin and Bragi had a disagreement during a counsel of Asgard, Odin decided he’d cast Jasper into the veil. He made it more torturous by having Orum and I carry out the deed. We were pawns, but it didn’t matter. Our father hadn’t spoken to us since.
“This is happening again,” I said. “I can feel it. Maxwell isn’t a normal mortal. You should see the thick sheen of Valhalla around him. Even for Geirolf, it’s overkill. No one needs that much divine protection.”
Fallen Mortal Page 3
